


Heat

by Miss_L



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:53:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2194197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_L/pseuds/Miss_L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kieren is warming up. On the inside, as well as the outside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [black_kitty_cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_kitty_cat/gifts).



> ... Who is my BDFF.
> 
> Also, I expect all of this to be resolved in season 3, but I need to write this out, so yeah...

Cold. The first thing he feels is cold. Against the palms of his hands, on his back, on his stomach where Simon’s arms envelop him securely. They both suffer from nightmares, although Kieren’s are more violent, on the general. Perhaps because Simon has learned to repress feelings early in his life. Maybe the heroin helped with that. Either way, Kieren just woke up from another memory of Lisa – always Lisa. The room is dark, it’s a new moon and all is quiet. Simon’s reflexive in- and exhales soothe the boy’s raw nerves as he tries to settle back in. But sleep doesn't come. Instead comes the cold. He’s not sure what the feeling is at first. He thinks that maybe he’d forgotten his medication, but no, that shouldn't be possible. Simon is always very prompt with giving him his shots (Sue and Steve are more than happy to let him relieve them of that unpleasant duty).

He shifts his hand on Simon’s forearm and that’s when it hits him. He can _feel_ now, and not only the temperature of the other’s skin, but also the rough texture of it, and he can even discern each small hair as his finger trails further down. It’s taken Simon ages to get him to take his clothes off to bed, and Kieren is happy of it now. He relishes the almost biting cold emanating from Simon’s body and the general chill in the room. His involuntary shiver is what finally wakes up his lover.

“Kieren?” his voice is husky from sleep.

The whispered question is laden with worry and silent tension – Simon has never had anyone to look after before, but he’s quick on the uptake, and anyone trying to hurt Kieren (either from inside or outside his own head) should probably start ruing the day they were born the moment they hatch their evil plans. The boy smiles and settles back against the – ridiculously buff, even in death – chest behind him. Simon doesn't need further reassurance before he pulls Kieren closer again and kisses the nape of his neck. Only then does he notice the strange new sound.

“Are those your teeth clattering?”

“Mmm… No?”

He can hear himself smirk before he can stop. Of course his teeth are clattering! He’s feeling cold! He can’t see Simon’s face, but the intense look of concentration (which makes him look a little bit like a really intelligent ape) is tangible. The bed dips when Simon gets out of it and Kieren is left wondering where he’s going, and missing the biting cold of his skin. The disciple presently returns, however, and Kieren can feel soft material against his own cold flesh. It feels woolly, and nice, and generally like _home._ He thinks it might be one of Amy’s grandmother’s bedspreads. It does absolutely nothing to warm him up, because he doesn't have any body heat to trap, but it’s nice all the same, and when Simon lies back down behind him, he can still feel his boyfriend against him – and that is perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

Kieren spends the next day next to a heater, wrapped in three woolly sweaters and a ridiculously oversized parka, under Simon’s watchful eyes. They don’t talk about what’s going on with his body – they both saw what happened to Amy right before she… _Left._ Right before Maxine stabbed her in the heart. Stabbed Philip in the heart, too. Boy is more dead than alive himself, nowadays. Losing his girlfriend had hit him much harder than losing his job and his standing, but the combination of the two weighs him down more and more. Even his mother’s constant support does nothing for him. Kieren tries to help, but being a “not valid member of society”, all he can offer is companionable silence – neither of them is much of a talker.

The whole bungalow is toasty warm day and night now. Simon never fails to put at least one layer of cloth between their bodies when they rest – something Kieren will never admit irks him to no end. When the other man has fallen asleep, he spends hours and hours tracing his freezing skin with loving hands. Kieren is ticklish now, good thing Simon isn't. 

As days pass, the hidden tension in Roarton becomes tangible. Small things, of course. On the outside, humans and PDS sufferers get on just fine, but there are distrustful looks. And chance words. And when Simon comes into a room full of his rejected flock, the silence is just a little bit _too_ oppressive for comfort. Kieren thinks that it might be necessary to leave soon, for Simon’s safety as well as his own, but so long, he wants to enjoy this weird domestic bliss they've got going on in their own little corner of the world. They don’t talk about any of that.

In fact, there are oodles of things they _don’t_ talk about. Like the knife. Kieren has seen it, before Simon pulled him upright and guided him away from the cemetery. He cannot think of a suitable explanation, nor does he particularly want to. He buries the mental image and focuses on Simon saving his life instead. The fear he had felt – not shown – when the man’s considerable dead weight had pulled him down. The few seconds where the world had come to a standstill until Simon’s bright, warm eyes had opened and he had smiled. He doesn't think about the knife, or what it had meant. He hopes wordlessly, thoughtlessly, that the explanation will never come. But that doesn't mean he has forgotten. Or that it doesn't haunt his dreams. Simon, holding the knife, plunging it-

Kieren rouses himself from the reminiscence and is surprised to find the subject of his recent nightmares sitting next to him on the couch, equal parts of awe and regret clearly readable on his face as he watches the slight tremor in his own hand. The boy is left wondering how much it would take for Simon not to lose himself in chemical oblivion again. He puts a hand on a bulging bicep and smiles up at his boyfriend.

“What?” the other wants to know, puzzlement flooding his features until he is a study in all of humanity’s questions.

“Time for your shot,” Kieren answers and feels the tension drain from under his fingers.

Simon’s recoil is violent this time, matching Kieren’s on more than one occasion for the past week. It has started.


	3. Chapter 3

Simon’s change doesn't go as expected. While Kieren is slowly regaining colour in his irises and skin, as well as feeling in his nerves, the older man gets very sick. He keeps to the bed, body shaking violently with cold, sweating profusely the next moment. His colour doesn't improve – if anything, he looks more dead than he had before. He doesn't eat, yet keeps throwing up black bile (Kieren shudders to think how much of his internal organs have already found their way into the metal bucket) and when he needs to get his shot… After two days, the boy asks Doctor Russo to come over. Strictly confidential, all that.

“I've never seen anything like it,” the medic concludes unhelpfully after the examination.

Simon mumbles something about not needing a doctor, then promptly heaves all over Kieren’s clothes. _Damn, those are my favourite jeans!_ The patient has gone quiet again, eyeballs moving rapidly behind the lids. After checking his irises and searching for a pulse that is not yet there, Russo gets up and shakes his head.

“I could send word to Norfolk…”

“No!” Kieren feels panic rising in his chest, but tries to keep calm. “No,” he repeats, quietly. “You know what they do to us there…”

He does. Tom Russo is a good man, and the last thing he wants is to endanger anyone with his actions. Kieren knows that.

“But what if he-? I can’t take that risk, my boy.”

“He’s my responsibility,” Kieren grits out stubbornly.

The doctor nods and puts a hand on his shoulder. After a small squeeze, he heads for the door.

“I’ll see what I can find out,” he says over his shoulder and lets himself out.

Kieren goes to sit with Simon again. The man seems to be sleeping soundly now, but his hands are twitching – another nightmare. The boy sighs and strokes sweaty locks out of Simon’s face, then adjusts his duvet and lies down next his lover. Fuck his clothes, he’ll wash them later.

His parents come over a few times. Sue fusses in the kitchen while Steve asks whether Doctor Russo has come up with a solution yet. They bring food – because what else can you bring for a sick person? – and Kieren decides not to throw it out, after all. He’s experiencing hunger lately, although he hasn't yet dared try to quench it. Jemima sits with Simon every day after her exams, allowing her brother a few hours of sleep on the couch.

After a week and still no improvement, Doctor Russo finally comes over again, sporting an – if possible – even more serious expression on his face. Kieren needs not to ask.

“Bad news, my boy. It seems that whatever was administered to Simon during his… Treatment… Is incredibly poisonous to the human body.”

He knows what the doc is actually saying; he just doesn't want to believe it. Or hear it in so many words. Or think about… _That._ Dr Russo puts some more Neurotriptyline on the kitchen table and leaves Kieren alone at his boyfriend’s bedside. Again.


	4. Chapter 4

Simon finally wakes up after three days of complete unconsciousness. His beautiful blue-green eyes follow Kieren around the room, but he is too weak to speak. His skin is – if possible – even more pallid than before, a maze of blackened veins standing out against it. His frame seems smaller somehow, more fragile and absent, the way he is leaning against the pillows his boyfriend has put behind his back and neck. Simon coughs violently, then smiles as Kieren puts a glass of water to his lips. The boy avoids looking at his face – every sign of humanity is a reminder of impending- He watches Simon’s chest heave with the unnecessary effort of drawing breath. His fists clench and he is getting up again, adjusting pictures of somebody else’s life in old frames, avoiding the thought of not making such memories for himself - themselves - in the future... 

“Burn me.”

It’s quiet, and somewhat garbled, as if Simon’s tongue is stuck solidly to the roof of his mouth, but both small words chime in Kieren’s brain like bells. Hell’s Bells. He would chuckle at the reference if he still had some joy left in his body. He turns towards the bed. He needs not speak.

“I'm done, Kieren,” the sick man continues, eyelids drooping, sad smile outlining what little contour his mouth still has left. “Please,” he adds. 

The boy feels his insides shatter. He thinks of arguing, thinks of going against Simon’s last will and burying him anyway. But then he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and sees his father instead. Desperate. Heart-broken. Wanting to hold on to whatever is left of his little boy, and he cannot, _will_ not deny his lover. 

It doesn't take long. The room is empty when they carry Simon’s body out. Emptier than a fully furnished room has any right to be. Kieren’s heart, too, is emptier than a sack of muscle and newly-pumping blood has any right to be.


End file.
